The Letter
by HopeCoppice
Summary: One letter can change everything. And once everything has changed, who knows where you'll end up? Het pairings, likely to be some slash later, no incest. Malik/Ingrid as main characters but Malik isn't on the list.
1. Chapter 1

__**Just a weird little thing that stuck in my head. Thought it might be a one-shot but it's likely to have chapters now, so. Enjoy!**

**SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SERIES FOUR**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

_'If you're reading this, you have failed in your duty and I, your mother, have paid the ultimate price for having such a worthless, pathetic excuse for a son.' _

Malik frowned, turning the envelope in his hand to check that it really was his name on the front. He'd found the letter among the few possessions left at their old, draughty home, with the instruction that it was to be opened only in the event of Elizabeta's demise. He hadn't been expecting this.

_'And if you've failed me so, Malik, if you've really been so stupid and useless as to allow your mother to be slain while you ran like a coward - because, if you're reading this, you clearly managed to save your own hide - then I think it's time for a few home truths. Better sit down, dear.'_

He perched himself on the edge of an antique chair and braced himself for vicious words; this side of his mother had rarely been turned against him but it seemed that she'd harboured a lot of venom towards him... It wasn't unusual, in vampire families, but he'd thought they were different. He was just glad he'd ditched Erin - purpose served, she could make her own way in the world now - before she could see him brought low like this.

_'You might like to know that you're not a Dracula after all. Honestly, boy, do you really think if you were I'd have left it so long to have you claim your birthright? I killed the Dracula heir to hide the fact that you weren't his child, and then I played the younger brother for the fool he was. You are the offspring of a visiting half-fang, who didn't survive beyond your first half-century. With the emergence of the Chosen One, I saw a chance to take power._

_You, dear Malik, would have gone the way of your real father the instant I took it._

_I leave this letter safe in the knowledge that you'll never read it if I ask you not to. You always were a mummy's boy._

_Elizabeta.'_

Malik crumpled the letter in his fist; all those centuries, he'd let her play her little mind games, he'd given her all the respect due to a mother from her son, and this vicious stake in the guts from beyond the grave was his reward? He sat for a while, the words of the letter playing in his mind, over and over until just a few stood out.

_You might like to know that you're not a Dracula after all._

_You're not a Dracula after all._

_You're not a Dracula..._

He leapt to his feet and took off into the night, speeding through clouds outlined in the silver light of the moon.

Landing at Garside, he threw himself into the shadows and waited. The courtyard was a hive of activity, the Draculas clearly preparing to move on. Ingrid disappeared back inside to pick up one last thing and he followed her into the school.

"Ingrid." She turned, half a snarl appearing on her face as she looked at him.  
"What are _you_ doing he-?"  
"I'm not a Dracula, I'm not your brother." He held out the letter, and she scanned it with a raised eyebrow.  
"Seems like our mothers have a lot in common. I hope you don't think this changes things between us."

Malik reached to take both her hands in his, surprised when she didn't resist.  
"Ingrid, please. Can you blame me for being confused by my feelings? She told me you were my _sister_."  
"I can blame you for everything else you did."  
"You would have done the same for your father. You know how important parents are." She frowned, then pressed a piece of paper into his palm.  
"This is where we're moving to. You're not invited."

She snatched up an urn and stormed out. Malik watched her go with a grin.

There was hope, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**An update! Hurrah. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Malik landed outside the new Dracula residence and peered up at it in awe.

The family had obviously given up on laying low and had acquired what essentially amounted to a mansion. He stood at the gate for a long time, wondering if he should use the intercom to try to gain entrance, before going over the wall instead. He could get to the front door without an invitation. He just didn't know what he was going to do once he got there.

In the end, he settled for folding a piece of paper in half and writing Ingrid's name on it. It didn't say anything, it was just... no, that was too vague, and what if she didn't recognise his handwriting? He added a note.

_'North-East corner, 10pm?'_

Then he slipped it through the letterbox, banged on the door, and sped away due north. He had half an hour to wait, and he spent that time making his way back towards the house, edging slowly eastward as he went, until he was just slightly north-east of the front door. Anyone who wanted to catch an intruder on the premises would speed or fly straight to the corner of the grounds; he hoped Ingrid herself would walk. She was always aware of how good she looked while walking; she liked to make the big impression.

Sure enough, she came into view on foot, just before ten, and her eyes widened as she saw him. He gestured towards the other side of the house and they headed southwards, away from any spies her father might have sent out. Or her brother, for that matter; the Draculas really were too nosy for their own good as a rule.  
"What are you doing here? I told you you weren't invited."  
"Traditional vampire safeguard, yeah, so I couldn't just walk in." She glared at him as if he was some kind of imbecile.  
"No, I _meant_, don't show up here."  
"Then why give me the address?"  
"I've been asking myself the same question all week." She rolled her eyes. "Look, you should go. Vlad's been setting up heat sensors again, and I don't know how far they're working yet."  
"But I wanted to see you." He knew he sounded like a lovesick fool, but he couldn't help it. She ignored his best 'adorable' pout.

"And now you have." She made an impatient gesture at the sky. "Go _home_, Malik."

He prepared to take off, but then an idea struck him and he paused, clutching at her arm in a way that made her glower as if she'd cut his hand off if he did it again. He let go, but he didn't leave.  
"Wait. Can I write?"  
"I don't know. _Can_ you? Judging by the chicken-scratch on that note-"  
"_May_ I, then. Would you mind?"

She eyed him speculatively for a moment.  
"Just don't sign your name. Now _go._"

He went. Once again, the clouds were lined with silver all the way back to the crumbling wreck he called home.


	3. Chapter 3

__**Sorry this has taken a while to materialise; real life happened. If it makes you feel better, the people waiting for ****_Smitten_**** to update have been hanging on way longer. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: not mine.**

_Ingrid._

He crossed that out.

_Dear Ingrid._

Too sentimental; he crossed that out too.

_To Ingrid._

That just sounded wrong. Malik crumpled the piece of paper he'd been writing on, throwing it into the fire with the rest, and started again.

_Ingrid,_

_Firstly, my writing is perfectly legible. I get it if you want to throw around insults, but try to stick to the ones with some accuracy to them. The truth always stings harder than fiction, you know that. Next time, try 'You're too good-looking, everyone must hate you' or 'curse your irresistible charm'._

It was at about this point that he remembered he was trying to get back on Ingrid's good side, and being his usual... _self-assured_ self might not be his best course of action. He took a moment to think before he decided what to say.

_I'm not sorry for trying to take the place I thought was mine. It just got out of control. I never wanted to hurt you - but you have to try to understand, I was raised by my insane mother, nobody else, and for 300 years that was it for me. Can you blame me for wanting a family?_

_I am sorry, though, that it all went so horribly wrong between us. I wish we'd had a chance._

_Yours,_

He remembered his promise not to sign his name just in time, and turned the comma into a full stop. He slipped the letter into an envelope, addressed it, and stared at it pensively for a moment. He knew he should just put it in the nearest postbox, but...

Well, he told himself, he didn't have a stamp anyway. He launched himself into the air and went to slip his message into the letterbox at the gates of the Dracula mansion. It took a lot of effort not to linger, but then he reasoned that Vlad lived here too, and it was probably not a good idea to wind him up again just yet. He made it back home in record time and sat, wondering if he'd said the right things.

He'd just have to wait to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and enquired about this story – sorry it's taken so long! Here's a big chapter for you... Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.**

Malik wasn't waiting for long.  
"What, you're actually just going to sit there and _wait for a reply_?" He shrugged, trying not to look surprised by the sudden mocking presence of Ingrid just outside his window.  
"Not much else to do around here these days. Come in, Ingrid." She didn't bother walking round to the door, just sped in through the open window and closed it behind her. "How are you here?"  
"I followed you, of course." She shrugged and dropped delicately into a chair, unfolding his letter. "Wasn't sure you had the brains to leave a return address."

He grimaced; he hadn't, of course. And now she was reading his letter, for the first time judging by her facial expressions. By the time she reached the end, she was deep in thought; she folded the letter and frowned at it for a few moments longer before standing and striding over to him.  
"Is that really the best you can do?" He was about to protest, but then he noticed the faintest hint of a smirk at her lips.  
"I can do better," He stood and reached a hand out to cup her cheek. "if you'll let me."

She hesitated, and he wondered if he'd completely misjudged things. But then she was leaning in, and their lips were touching, and almost before he knew it he was sweeping assorted debris off the table and lowering her down onto it. She sat up, to his disappointment, before he could join her, one finger on his chest to stop him.  
"Dear Malik," she began, "That was the worst apology I've ever had the misfortune to receive. I expect much more grovelling in future and a _proper_ explanation." He groaned; he hated making apologies almost as much as he hated the idea of telling her exactly what had happened. "But first," she continued, "I would _love_ to know what you think you're doing with me on this table."

She waited expectantly. So did he.  
"Well?" She snapped at last.  
"Don't you sign your letters?" She scowled at him, but complied.  
"Fine. Damn right you're mine, Ingrid." She reached up to seal the letter with a very brief kiss. "Now tell me what you're thinking."  
"I'm thinking about making you weak at the knees, but I don't want you to fall. Hence the table."  
"Oh, really? Weak at the knees?" She lowered her hand with a challenging look. "Do your worst."

He climbed onto the table and kissed her. When she rolled them so that she could get on top and kiss him back, it wasn't even really a surprise. Strange, how after everything, he could still predict her actions at a time like this.  
"Not even close," she hissed in his ear, "Ingrid Dracula doesn't _do_ weak."

He didn't bother to argue.


End file.
